To the Simple Touch of Fingertips
by EAlove
Summary: Finally, Harold looked down as John released his hand. "Let's go back to the Library and patch you up." Reese opened his mouth to reply, but no sound made it past his lips as a violent explosion threw both men in the air. /Rated T for violence.


**To the Simple Touch of Fingertips**

"_Mr. Reese,_" the familiar voice said through John's earpiece. "_Miss Jones is back at her hotel. You have to get out, now._"

It had been a usual morning, Finch had called Reese after receiving a new Number, and Reese had been at the Library minutes after, with a cup of Sencha green tea for Finch. The new Number happened to be a young woman going by the name of Kate Jones. She had just finished her studies, and was being employed by one of the biggest high-tech companies. She had been called to the head quarters of the company in New York for an important meeting, and was staying at an hotel. Hotel which Reese was currently inspecting in search of some hint that could help him identify the threat. He'd had time to look through Jones' room but hadn't found anything that could indicate the woman was in some sort of danger.

"Understood," Reese whispered and tapped the earpiece to end the communication, though he suspected that Finch could still hear him no matter what.

Reese quickly made his way out of the room, and walked through the corridors of the hotel without encountering any problem. Once outside, he turned around to be sure no one was following him or had been following Kate. As there didn't seem to be threats outside either, Reese walked to another building and settled himself on the rooftop. He had a good view of Kate's room from where he was, and he could pair her phone to listen to her conversations. He had installed a wireless camera in her room, and Finch already had an image.

"_She works for a very influent company, the threat could be anything from a jealous rival company to an internal threat,_" Finch said in Reese's ear. The former CIA operative wasn't surprised in the least to hear his employer's voice, but a smile made its way to his lips.

"I know, Finch," John replied as he took the camera from the bag he had taken with him from the Library. "Have you found anything new?"

"_Her parents are still living in her hometown, she doesn't have siblings and she lives alone. She hasn't bought anything suspicious in the last two years, and her grades at school were rather good so she probably wasn't doing much out of her classes._"

"Oh I don't know, Harold. I could name at least one genius who I'm sure had good grades and yet would have been able to do other things outside of school," Reese smirked. There was a long silence on the other side of the line before Finch replied.

"_Very well, let's not jump to conclusions._"

Reese could have sworn there was a note of amusement and challenge in Finch's tone, which made him smile. Harold Finch wasn't one to give information about himself, but Reese liked a good challenge. It was a game they both played and enjoyed.

John placed the camera next to him and paired his phone with Kate's. He had chosen the right place; close enough to get the signal from their Number's phone, but far enough so his presence wouldn't be too obvious. Reese heard Finch typing away on his keyboard, searching more information when the pairing was successful.

"_It must be a phone from the company. There are few contacts registered, no pictures and no texts. The phone is empty,_" Finch said, and yet didn't stop typing. "_Do you see anything suspicious?_"

Reese lifted the camera to his eye and looked through the window of Kate's room. The woman and taken her coat off and thrown it on the bed. She was now sitting at the desk and working on her computer. "Nothing at all," John sighed. "She's working on her computer though, do you think you can-"

"_I am offended you still have to ask, Mr. Reese,_" was the quick reply John received before he could finish his question, which made him laugh. "_Her computer must also be from the company, it has a high level security software. I'm writing a program to get around this one, but it will take time._"

They spent the next hour in comfortable silence; the kind of silence that lingered between them when they were both working, but the communication would still be on. As of now, Reese had taken a few pictures, but Kate hasn't moved from her bed. Finch on the other hand, hadn't stopped typing away on his keyboard, but was still unsuccessful in his search of information.

"_I made programs, outside of school,_" Finch said, out of the blue.

John raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted his head. "Why am I not surprised?" He was surprised however, that Finch had started to talk and give out information about his younger years. "When I was at school, I was more interested in going out," Reese laughed.

"_Well, why am_ I _not surprised_?" Harold replied, barely suppressing his laughter.

There was another silence after that, only interupted by Finch's fingers running on the keyboard. It was pleasant though, Reese thought. He was used to Finch's presence everywhere he would go, and if he was honest with himself, he'd even go as far as to say he liked it. Harold was his connection to the world, his lifeline.

"What's your favorite color?" John asked before he could stop himself. But his question was only answered by yet another long silence. He worried for a second that he had crossed a line, but a call on Kate's phone didn't leave him more time to think about it. "Finch?"

"_Yes, I heard,_" Hardold said before typing faster on his computer, and then stopped when Kate answered her phone. Both men were listening.

"_H-Hello?_" the young woman asked. Her voice was unsteady, and Reese had the feeling Kate knew who was on the other side of the line and probbaly even feared them.

"_I hope you have everything we need,_" a muffled voice answered. There, that was the threat they had been looking for. Blackmail maybe, John thought, as Kate seemed to be more afraid than willingly cooperating.

"_I need more time, please-_"

"_You have two hours left,_" the voice aggressively cut the woman in mid sentence. "_We will meet same place as usual._"

Kate visibly gulped. "_Are my parents all right?_" Her question wasn't answered as the person on the other side hang up. The woman looked at the phone in stune silence for half a minute, and then slumped down against a wall, sobbing.

"She's being used, Finch. Blackmailed. I wouldn't be surprised if they had planned to kill her after she's given them what they want," John said, frowning as he watched Kate throwing the phone to the other side of the room.

"_I know, Mr. Reese,_" Harold replied, already tracing the call from his computer. "_Unfortunately, those people know how to cover their tracks. I'm trying to trace the call, but it's leading me to many places all over the world. It'll take me some time._"

"Two hours, Harold."

"_I know,_" Finch repeated, and Reese could hear the typing accelerating. At the same time, Kate stood up and reached for her laptop, plugging in a USB stick.

"Finch, what is she doing on her computer?" Reese asked as he used the camera to zoom on the screen of her computer.

"_The code securing the system of her computer is more complex than I first thought. I launched my program to crack both the phone and the computer earlier, but it'll take more time to- Ah._"

"'Ah' what?" Reese frowned. There was nothing from Finch's tone that could indicate if this exclamation was good or bad news. "Finch?" Reese asked again when the other man didn't respond.

"_I have access to Miss Jones' computer. She seemed to be working on something for the company... Wait._"

"Finch," John said, exasperrated. It was hard to get an answer today apparently, and Reese simply couldn't just wait and stay still while a woman struggled under blackmail. It was easier when he was next to Harold, watching the man work on his computer, with data on the screens which John could read. The typing brutally stopped, and silence took over.

"_She isn't working for the company. She is stealing information, very important designs on new high-technologies... Mr. Reese,_" Finch said, his tone suddenly extremely serious. "_There is no way they will let her or her parents live after receiving the information, she could compromise everything. And from what I gathered, they are not amateurs. We have to help her._"

The statement left them thinking for a long moment, both men working on solutions for their problem. They couldn't trace the call, so it made the conclusion clear enough for Reese.

"I'll follow her and act when she hands over the information," John said, his voice tense. He knew already it wouldn't be a piece of cake. Finch was right, the people who had called weren't fooling around; the voice was unrecognisable, the call untraceable and they probably were trained armed men. Harold seemed to read Reese's thoughts, as he answered.

"_We don't know who we're dealing with, Mr. Reese. For all we know, they could be extremely dangerous people._"

"All the more reasons for me to stop them from getting valuable information, Finch. I can't let Kate run into what is most possibly a trap." Reese could tell it wouldn't be easy to make Finch let him go. Worry was already creeping through the older man's voice.

"_And I cannot let _you_ run into this trap, do you understand?_"

Reese was good at reading between the lines. But with Finch, sometimes he wondered if he didn't read what he _wanted_ to read, and not what was really said. Finch cared for him, that much was obvious for sure. They had been through a lot together; Reese being shot more than once, Finch being kidnapped, and they always were there for each other. But John found himself wanting more. More of the shivers that ran through his body when their arms accidentally brushed or when Finch called him by his first name. But Reese also knew that he was a monster, he killed people, and there was no possible way that someone like Finch would consider him as more than a friend. He was already glad Finch _did_ consider him as a friend, John thought with a bitter smile. Now wasn't the time to deal with his feelings however, especially since they weren't returned.

"Carter and Fusco are already working on another number, there's no other choice, Harold," John said and tapped the earpiece to terminate the call. Of course it wouldn't stop Finch, but at least it'd make him understand that the situation wasn't up to discussion. As if on cue, Kate pulled the USB key from her laptop and grabbed her coat before running out of the hotel room. It was time for the ex-CIA operative to take action.

* * *

At the Library, Finch let out a frustrated growl. Reese was running straight into the trap. Now, that's what he normally did, but Harold had a terrible feeling about this one. They had even less information than the usual, and the people Reese was about to confront seemed more than well-prepared and ruthless (they were about to kill a young woman and her parents for God's sake). Finch simply couldn't let the younger man go alone for this one.

Straightening, Finch started to type on his computer. He was determined to help Reese, and he couldn't do much from here, so he had to follow their number. However, tracking Kate's movements through her phone proved to be more complicated than Finch originally thought. The phone was too well protected and it'd take too long for his program to crack this layer of protection. He was already wasting precious time, so he chose to track Reese's phone while his program was working. He found John already on the move.

"I'm not letting you go alone," Finch whispered as he pushed himself off the chair and grabbed his phone and his coat. Bear, who had been resting on the dog bed near the desk, lifted his head to watch Harold move. The dog quickly got up and followed his master, but the grating door was closed before he could follow further.

"Sorry Bear, not today," Harold said before he limped down the stairs of the Library. He walked as fast as he could, and finally reached the parking lot where he had parked one of his fastest cars. Opening the door, he shot a look around him to be sure no one had noticed him -only the paranoid survive after all- and started the car.

"Mr. Reese?" Finch called once he was on the road and following the GPS tracker on his phone.

The response came quickly, though Finch could swear he heard a hitch in his associate's voice, as if he had been surprised. "_I'm following Kate, Finch. Everything's fine._" Finch could hear Reese's voice clearly, only the muffled sound of a crowd could be heard as a background noise, indicating that Reese was walking. Finch would catch up with him quickly then.

"Good," Harold said and pushed the accelerator to pass an orange light about to turn red. He wasn't one for being careless on the road, but danger could be anywhere near Reese.

"_What's that noise?_" The car Finch drove was fast, and the motor wasn't quiet, especially as he kept accelerating.

"Whether you like it or not, John, I'm coming with you."

"_No!_" Reese gritted his teeth. "_You stay right where you are, I'll deal with them._" There was a short silence after that, during which Harold kept driving, and John weighted his options. Finch feared Reese would do something reckless, such as throwing himself right in the trap to end the threat more quickly. A surge of adrenaline flooded his veins as Finch gripped the wheel tighter and drove past a red light. His fear became true as Reese spoke again.

"_Sorry Harold. I can't let you put yourself in danger._"

* * *

Reese wasn't an idiot, he knew that if Finch couldn't trace Kate's phone, then he would trace Reese's. And that was probably why Finch was in his car when they spoke through the earpiece. Harold was stubborn, he never let anything block his path, even his own injuries. He always found a way to what he wanted, and that was something Reese admired in his employer. Except today it was the exact reason why Reese had taken this decision. He closed his eyes, saying goodbye.

"_Mr. Reese- John!_" These were the last words Reese heard through the communication device before he pulled it out of his ear and threw it on the ground before stepping on it. Then he repeated his actions with his phone. No more signal to trace.

He was in a dangerous situation now, he couldn't get help and he was alone. But it was better than having Harold with him, in danger. He couldn't even bear the thought of Finch being injured; he had promised himself to protect his employer, after he had been kidnapped by Root. His heart ached but he convinced himself it was the right decision.

Kate turned at a street corner, and Reese had to stop his train of thoughts. He collected the broken phone and earpiece, and threw them in a trash can before following the woman.

They arrived at one of the biggest buildings -and that's saying something in New York-, Kate entered, and John quietly followed soon after.

The woman led him to a rather large parking lot underneath the building, but there weren't any cars. John hid behind a pillar, keeping a wall and the exit door behind him. On the other side, the parking lot went on with the exit road for cars. Reese kept his eyes on Kate, ready for any sort of threat.

"Hello?" Kate called out. Nobody answered however, and she kept walking and turning around. She was afraid, John guessed. Afraid and desperate. Which made Reese take his gun out and tighten his grip on the butt of the firearm. Anything could happen at this point, and he was ready.

Nothing happened in the following minute, until a car arrived. It stopped right next to Kate, who fished the flash drive she had taken with her from her pocket. Four men got out of the car, armed with at least two guns each, John could see, and they were clearly trained. Two of them stayed close to the car, their attention going around the parking lot in searh of any suspicious viewer, and Reese had to be extremely careful not to be seen. Another man pulled two other people from the car; they were blindfolded and had their hands tied to their backs. Kate's parents, Reese thought.

The last man stood in front of Kate and started to talk, but John couldn't hear. He had an idea of what was said however, when the woman gave the USB stick and the man simply snatched it from her hands and put it in one of his pockets. The two men who stood by the car immediately went to grab Kate's arms as the third man pushed her parents to their knees, right in front of her. Kate then seemed frantic and struggled out of the men's grip, but she wasn't strong enough. It was time for the Reese to act.

John jumped from his hiding place and fired his gun two times, shooting in the legs of both men who were restraining the young woman. Reese fell on his right shoulder and rolled, quickly getting back up on his feet. But he wasn't quick enough. One of the men who wasn't on the floor had aimed at him and fired, successfully hitting his right arm. Gritting his teeth in pain, John ran to hide behind another pillar. He was cursing the lack of cars now, he couldn't hide anywhere. At least he was glad he was able to use a gun with his left hand, he had to thank the CIA training this time.

"You can't hide anywhere, so you better come out now," the man who had shot him said.

John risked a glance at the men; two were still on the ground but had their guns back in their hands and ready to fire, the one that had shot him was still aiming at the pillar behind which Reese now was, the fourth man had disappeared and Kate had rushed at her parents' side, freeing them of the blindfolds. When John noticed the absence of the fourth man, he turned around – he couldn't let one of the men out of his sight- but he wasn't quick enough again. The man had already a gun to John's head.

"Move and I put a bullet in your skull," the man said, voice low. Then he moved around John to face him and took Reese's gun. "He's under control!" the man said, shooting a glance at his associates. That was his mistake.

John brought his left arm up in one swift movement, and grabbed the other's arm, twisting it until the man was forced to turn around. Forgetting the pain inhis right arm, Reese then grabbed the man's gun and at the same time kicked him in the shin, forcing the man on his knees. The man let out a grunt of pain as John forced him to lay down and placed his knee on the man's back, keep his arm twisted on the man's back so he couldn't move. The other men were running towards him, leaving Kate with her parents. Reese hit the man on the back of the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious. He grabbed his own gun, that the man had let go of during the fight, and ran straight to another pillar. As he ran, John shot with both guns, hitting one man in the shourlder and another in the guts. The only man left had already been shot in the leg earlier, and apparently decided that it would be the only injury he'd suffer from today, as he left, limping across the parking lot and leaving his associates. The man who had been shot in the shoulder was the second man John had shot the leg of, and he followed soon after. Reese let them go, he wasn't interested in them. The flash drive was in the pocket of the man who had been shot in the stomach, and he wouldn't be a problem anymore. He had promised Detective Carter that he'd keep the body count low, but one body wouldn't make a difference, he guessed. Kate and her parents were pressed against the car, too frightened to run. Kate hadn't been able to untie them.

"Leave us alone, you've got what you want!" Kate yelled as John approached her. Not wanting to frighten any more the woman, Reese stayed where he was.

"I'm not with them, I'm here to help you," John raised both arms in surrender. He still had two guns though, and he supposed that wouldn't help her believe him. He was about to let go of both weapons when, at this right moment, the door through which Reese had entered the parking lot opened in the gritting noise. Adreanaline already flooding his system, his reaction was fast. He raised his left arm and almost, almost, pulled the trigger, before his brain registered who was standing in front of him.

"Mr. Reese, if you'd be so kind as to aim that _thing_ another way..."

"I almost shot you!" Reese yelled and threw the gun away in disgust, as if it was the gun in itself that had almost shot his friend. Harold spared a quick glance at the gun, as if midly bothered, but John could see his pupils had slightly dilated in fear, and Finch's shoulders relaxed as the gun hit the ground, away from them. "How did you find me?"

"That's not important," Finch replied, and John thought that he probably had a tracker somewhere in one of his pockets, like the one he had put on Finch's glasses before. He should be angry at that, but he found himself more relieved that he had dealt with the threat _before_ Finch had arrived, and the thought of the tracker faded. "I appear to be late anyway," the older man continued as he took a look around the parking lot. There were two men down, a car, and Kate who was working on untying her father. Her mother was free already.

"I told you I would be fine alone." Reese couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness from his guts.

Finch's expression changed in a second as he took a good look at his employee. "I'm sorry but I don't believe you, John. You're bleeding!" Finally, Harold made a first step towards John and reached out to the injured arm.

"That's alright, it'll heal," Reese said as he caught Finch's hand in his good one before Finch could touch his arm. The older man looked up, and their eyes stayed locked on each other for seconds that felt an eternity. Finch was a master at controling his emotions, he always had a mask to hid behind. But this time, Reese could easily read the worry that was painted all over his face and his heart ached at the sight. He had never thought Finch would worry about him as much as the ex-soldier worried about the older man.

Finally, Harold looked down as John released his hand. "Let's go back to the Library and patch you up."

Reese opened his mouth to reply, but no sound made it past his lips as a violent explosion threw both men in the air.

* * *

Kate had been so desperate to save her only family that she had immediately acted after the first call she had received. They had her parents in hostage and they had demanded her to steal valuable information from the company she worked for. It would be easy for her, even though she had just been hired, she had a high level of access in the company. So she had done just that, whenever she was at her hotel she would work to get information copied on her computer to a flash drive. By the end of the deadline, she had received another call, and set off to the meeting, which was a parking lot. It was the second time she would meet those men, and she was frightened. But at least she would get her parents back. She'd have to deal with the consequences of her acts later.

However, when she had gotten her parents back and given the information, a man came out of nowhere, and she had found herself in hell. She had to work on untying her parents and dodging bullets. By the end, two men where down and two others had ran away. She had managed to free her mother, but her hands where shaking so much that she had trouble freeing her father.

But then suddenly she heard a terrible noise, a blinding light... and darkness took over.

* * *

He woke up slowly, coming back to consciousness after God knows how long. The first thing he registered was the terrible pain from his back and left arm, the throbbing in his head and the whistle in his ears slowly fading. Everything was a blur when he opened his eyes. He could see a high roof, the light bulbs that had exploded but there was still light. A yellow-redish one that somehow made shadows move. And it was hot. Fire? Fire... An explosion.

Everything came back to John brutally, memories, pain, worry, _Finch_.

Harold! Reese jolted upright, his head throbbing with the movement. He scanned the parking lot with worried eyes.

The center of the explosion was the car; there was a body slumped against the side of the vehicle, completely burnt, another lying not far, and the third had been thrown away towards the exit. The car was still on fire, the flames reaching the roof and heating the place with a terrifying warmth. Behind Reese, Finch was laying on his right side and his back against the wall, the ankle on his bad leg twisted at an awkward angle, probably broken. Blood was slowly flowing from his forehead, the red drops following the curves of his nose and cheeks before dropping to the ground. His glasses were askew and the lenses were craked. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving at all.

Using his left arm, Reese pushed himself off the ground. A sharp pain from his back made him grunt and grit his teeth, but he was focused on Harold. He realised at this moment however, that his left arm was partially burnt. His knees were aching and bleeding, he would have hit them when he fell on the ground after the explosion. But there was no time to think of his own injuries. John limped as fast as he could towards his friend, immediately straightening him and checking his pulse by pressing two fingers to his neck. Reese sighed when he felt Finch's heart sending blood under his fingers.

The forced change of position made Finch come back to consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to remember what had happened. Memories came back to him by waves; he had followed Reese, found him injured and then... The explosion.

"John...?"All Finch could see was the concerned face of his friend through broken glasses. He was alive then, good. More than good, it was excellent news. Especially since he couldn't feel his left leg, and there was sharp pain in his right shoulder.

"I'm here, you'll be alright," Reese tried to comfort him. "You have a dislocated shoulder, I'll have to push it back into place, Harold." John had already placed both his hands on Finch, ready to do the necessary but painful act. Finch looked down and noticed his employee's bloody hands. One was partially burnt.

"Your hands-"

"Just breath," Reese said, and Finch did. A second later, Harold's scream echoed through the walls of the parking lot. The older man inhaled sharply, trying to get air into his lungs and not pass out. He was used to pain, but not to this point. "Shh, it's okay," John repeated over and over.

Finch looked up at Reese and made sure their eyes locked before speaking. "I'm not worried about myself, Mr. Reese."

John would have laughed if they weren't in such a jeopardy situation; of course Finch would be worried about his employee and not himself. Reese was very grateful that Harold cared for him, but sometimes he wished the older man would care more about himself. Like right now, he could be screaming in pain because of his broken ankle. Reese could see the lines of tension and pain on Harold's face, but Finch still wasn't saying anything. John raised his right arm, hissing as the pain from the gunshot wound grew more intense, and wiped the blood from Finch's face with his sleeve. The former agent traced Finch's face with his hand and rested his palm on his friend's cheek. It was the most intimate touch they had experienced. "Then you've got nothing to worry about, Harold. I'm fine."

Finch's eyes didn't leave John's as he spoke, but anger flashed on his features for a second. "Are you out of your mind? You've been burnt and shot!" Harold raised an arm to capture Reese's hand in his own and gave it a short squeze.

"Harold," John shook his head slightly and let out a dry chuckle. "You have a broken ankle, you hit your head and you had a dislocated shoulder."

Finch's eyes finally left his employee's face and darted downards. He noticed then that his left ankle was bent awkwardly. His body reacted immediately; his stomach clenched and his hands shot up to clap around his mouth to stop him from throwing up as he adverted his gaze.

Instantly worried, John placed his hands on Finch's shoulders in a comforting gesture. "It's alright, I'll get you out of here."

True to his words, John grabbed the closest gun from the ground and managed to get Harold up on his good leg, the other one being simply dragged by the movements. John had one arm around Finch's waist, while the bespectacled man had one arm around Reese's shoulders to support himself. From the corner of his eyes, Reese saw Finch bit his bottom lip in pain and sometimes even close his eyes and take a deep breath. The former m!,;agent wouldn't comment though, he knew Finch hated being fussed over, and the only solution that came in Reese's mind would be to simply carry his employer outside, which was out of the questin obviously.

Harold used John to support a good part of his weight however, and managed to half jump, half limp towards the exit door. Behind them, the car was still burning, and the older man already felt guilty for not being able to save their number. If he had managed to work faster, maybe he could have predicted the bomb. Kate Jones would be yet another Number on his wall, with the other people he hadn't been able to save... The thought made Finch's stomach clench again and he gulped down a sob.

Seeing Finch's despair, Reese brought Finch a little closer to his own body, bringing comfort and understanding; Finch wasn't alone. John felt bad for not saving their number of course, but Finch's safety was by far his number one priority. He should have thought of all the means those people would have put into place to get rid of Kate, including the possibility oza bomb. Now that Reese had failed and that Harold was injuried, John could only beat himself over the fact that he hadn't been able to protect the one person that mattered to him. Because Harold had saved him, and not only by giving the former agent a job and a purpose, but by giving him someone to care about and had renewed his desire to live. John had rediscovered what it was to have a friend, someone you could trust, and someone to protect. He knew that Harold also cared about him, Reese had been trained to read people after all, and even though Finch was always hiding behind a mask, his actions were easy to read.

When John had been shot after meeting Mark Snow the first time after the former agent's supposed death, Harold had been stubborn enough to put himself in danger to save his employee. Then Reese had lost Finch to the hands of Samantha Groves, or Root. That's when John realised he cared more about Finch than the regular employee to employer kind of caring. He'd have moved heaven and earth to find Finch. When Harold had been back to the Library, he'd had a panic attack when going outside, and John had been there to help him go outside again. Then there had been the bomb vest. Finch once again had ignored Reese's pleas to get away from danger, and had walked straight to John. They had been ready to die together then, but luck had been on their side and Harold had defused the bomb.

Reese had never lost faith in Finch, even when he had learnt that Harold had been the one selling the laptop that had led himself and Kara Stanton to Ordos to be executed. Even when Samantha Shaw had doubted him, all John had said was that 'Finch must have had good reasons'. And Finch had trusted him with the Machine, giving him complete access for a day.

There was an almost blind trust between them, even if it hadn't come easily.

As they gradually walked up the stairs, leaning on each other, Finch thought of how lucky he had been that Reese had accepted his offer for the job. He couldn't see his life without John by his side now, the ex-CIA operative was too important. Not only on a professional level, but also on the personal one. In John he had found a friend, a constant presence in his life. Finch wasn't ready to share everything with the other man though, he still had many secrets. But just like Grace, Reese was in danger by just being with him, and Harold couldn't allow anything bad to happen to him. He had been surprised when he understood that his feelings for John ran deeper than simple caring for a friend. He hadn't intended on falling for his employee. But Reese was far more than an employee now, he was someone he could count on at all times. Even now that he was a mere dead weight.

They were finally outside; there weren't a lot of people passing by the back door of the tall building, and Reese wouldn't complain. How could one explain all the injuries he and Harold were suffering?

Trying to get back some dignity, Harold straightened up. "Mr. Reese, I believe I can-"

"Harold," Reese interrupted, exasperated because he knew exactly what Finch was thinking, but still, he was patient. "You can hardly walk by yourself." Closing the short debate with his words, John supported the older man as they walked straight ahead.

They didn't go far into the back alley however, when a voice behind them made them freeze.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Reese turned his head to see the two men who had escaped earlier. They were standing awkwardly since they both had been shot in the leg earlier, but they still held their weapons straight at him and Finch with firm hands. John's jaw clenched. He should have known they'd be back. They were pros after all, they had left only because they had known the bomb would explode soon enough... Reese shook himself; he'd have time to think about his mistake later. Or never, depending on which path the situation would take at this point.

Reese immediately reached for his gun, but the men stopped him. "Move and we shoot your friend." The man John had shot both at the shoulder and leg had a ferocious look on his face, and was still pointing his gun at him as the other man, who had spoken, was pointing his gun at Harold. John had his hand behind his back, already on the butt of his weapon, but dared not to move. He couldn't risk Finch's life. "We're gonna take you back to the boss. You have the flash drive, don't you?" It wasn't a question, but more of an affirmation, as if the men knew already what Reese would do. However, when the men walked towards him, John smirked inwardly; there was no way they'd foresee his next move.

Next to him, Finch sensed Reese's tension, as if the former agent was ready to attack. Harold released his grip around Reese's shoulders but shot the man a hard stare. Whatever he was planning, Finch already had a bad feeling about it. They were in a bad shape, it wouldn't bring any good to make a mistake. Not that Finch didn't trust John's combat skills of course, but everyone had their limits.

John turned his head very slightly to meet Harold's stare, and softened his features to reassure his friend. When he saw that worry didn't leave Finch's eyes -and he could understand, because they weren't safe yet- John turned back towards their attackers. They were highly trained, he had to remind himself. He couldn't show his intentions until they were right where he needed them to be. Reese removed his arm from around Finch's waist but kept his gaze on the other two men. When they were close enough, Reese moved.

John kneeled down, bringing Finch down with him, then straightened back up so quickly that the men had barely enough time to react. Reese hit the man who had been pointing his gun at Finch first, throwing his shoulder to the man's chest. The man lost his balance and fell backwards, letting go of his gun, which fell next to Finch. But Reese wasn't quick enough, and the other man had already his own gun aimed at the former agent's chest. And fired.

It had all been a blur to Harold. He fell down on his knees with Reese, and watched as his friend pushed a man away from him and went to attack the other. A gunshot stopped him in his track, and Finch's blood froze in his veins. It was like Time itself had stopped. Reese was standing in front of the man, there was no sound coming from him, he was unmoving for what felt like an eternity. The second man was on his back, on the ground, and as stunned as the other three men. Harold could only watch helplessly as Reese slowly fell to his knees, and then on his side. Then Time seemed to reclaim its power.

"JOHN!" Harold screamed and crawled to his friend's side. He placed shaky hands on John's arm and turned him so he could see his face. The bullet had penetrated Reese under the clavicle and way too close to the heart, the once white shirt was becoming red as it absorbed blood. John's breath was uneven and rapid, he was sweating and his face was quickly losing its colours. From his mouth, blood flowed as John tried to speak but ended coughing up more blood.

Finch was completely frozen, his eyes wide and his hands trembling. What should he do, what could he possibly do? It was like his brain had deserted, he couldn't think of anything but the blood in which John, his friend, the person that meant the most to him, was drowning in. John's gaze was starting to get less focused and Harold was panicking.

However, when one of the attackers grabbed him by the collar and forced him up, Harold Finch regained full control of his capabilities. Ignoring the pain in both his shoulder and ankle, Finch turned around and brought his fist into the man's face so quickly that Harold himself was surprised. The man fell to the ground a second time, nursing his bloody nose. Finch didn't let the surprise take over him like the second man who watched with wide eyes. Instead, he grabbed the gun that was at his feet and immediately aimed at the man who had the second gun.

"You have no idea who we are, do you?" In this moment, as the fear for John, the desire of revenge, and the pain all together mixed in Harold made him smirk like a mad man. His hand was still shaking around the butt of the weapon, but he had his mind set. He wouldn't let _anyone_ near John, absolutely no one would approach him. Harold had an aversion for firearms, he felt highly uncomfortable around them, and he had told Reese so, many times. But that didn't mean he didn't know to fire and protect himself if need be. He had been ready, gun at hand, to intervene when Reese had been held in prison after all.

"Wait, we can talk," the man on the other end of Harold's gun said. He started lowering his weapon, but Finch saw just a small twitch of the man's hand and fired. The bullet hit the man straight in his head, and he fell on the ground with a loud 'thud', dead. The force of the shot threw more pain in Finch's already injured shoulder, but he didn't care. He was past beyond the point of caring. Turning, Harold pointed the abject weapon to the other man. But this one had gotten the message; he got up, still pressing a hand to his bloody nose, and ran in the opposite direction. Once the man was out of sight, all the adrenaline drained from Finch's system, and he released his grip on the firearm, which fell to the ground with a distinctive sound. There was nothing left in Harold's mind but John. John Reese. Lying on the ground. Coughing blood.

Finch took hesitant steps towards his friend and dropped to his knees. Reese's gaze was still slightly unfocused, and Harold could see that he was struggling. Finch carefully took one of John's hands in his own, while his other hand went to cup John's face in the most caring of gesture. Once he noticed the blood on Reese's chest however, he quickly moved both his hands on the wound, and pressed against it.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Reese whispered, his voice even more raspy than usual, and his words often cut by a cough. "I couldn't p- protect you."

"Shh." It was Harold's time to comfort John now. "I dealt with them. You're going to be okay." Harold tried to be reassuring, but his worry pierced through his voice. As John's eyes moved to watch the sky above, Harold realised that he wouldn't be able to do it alone. He was still badly injured himself, and wouldn't be able to move John to his car to drive him some place safe. This time he'd have to put everything at risk.

He searched in the breast pocket of his suit for his phone, and found it with a cracked screen. It was still miraculously working, and Finch would have been thanking all the possible existing Gods if Reese's condition hadn't been so urgent. He quickly dialed Detective Carter's number, and briefly explained the situation to the worried woman, giving her their position. Harold ended the call when John coughed harder and closed his eyes.

"Stay with me!" Finch's face was above Reese's pale one as he gently tapped Reese's cheek multiple times to make him stay conscious. There was an edge of hysteria in his voice, but he didn't care. "I know you are tired, but you can't go to sleep, alright?" Harold was so worried, that he didn't even notice that he was crying, until one tear fell on John's cheek.

John opened his eyes, struggling to stay awake. He didn't want to leave Harold, but a nap sounded like a really good idea; he had trouble focusing his gaze on the concerned face of his friend, and his emotions and thoughts were a incomprehensible storm in his mind. The sudden feeling of something wet on his face cleared his mind for a split second, and he realised that Finch was crying. In the two years they had spent together, John had never seen Harold show such emotion. Even when they had talked about Grace. But Reese didn't want Finch to cry over him. He was just an asset, and the older man wouldn't have trouble finding another retired agent to work with him. John's heart ached at the thought of someone else working with Finch, but the Irrelevant List was priority number one.

Focusing all of his strength left in his arm, Reese raised a hand to cup Finch's face and wiped the tears from his cheek with his thumb. With the gentle gesture, John forced a smile on his lips. "You'll be okay," John repeated Finch's earlier words. _Even if I leave you_. John had still so many things to tell Harold, they had yet so many things to discover together. It would probably be the only regret John would have.

Finch gulped down a sob. "I... John, please." It was more than a plea. Harold pressed his bloody hand on John's and leaned in his friend's touch. He was holding onto Reese as if the man was his lifeline. The touch of their hands was the only connection between them at this precise moment, and Harold feared that if one of them let go, the connection would fade. "I won't. I won't be okay."

Finally, tired of struggling, John Reese let his body go limp. His hand slipped from Finch's cheek, only being kept in place because of Harold's hand on his own. His eyes never left Harold's, so the very last thing he saw was the face of the man he held so dear. Finch was screaming something at him, but Reese couldn't hear. And soon he couldn't feel anything. Couldn't see anything. So he smiled, and his lips stayed in place as his eyes closed.

"John! JOHN!" Harold's cries were futile; Reese had already sank into unconsciousness, and Finch could now only stare at the unmoving form in front of him. His throat was tight and he could hardly breathe.

As more tears fell from his eyes, he felt someone's hands on his shoulder, but didn't bother looking up. He didn't even care who it was, the only thing he could, and wanted to, see was John's too pale face. Even when he was being lifted up by strong arms, Harold kept his eyes on John. He didn't try to fight the person, he felt completely numb, like his mind was out of his body.

Another face came in front of him, that he recognised as Carter, and his body released some of the tension. He was in good hands, Carter was a friend. "John...," he managed to say before his mind gave up keeping him awake, and it was Finch's turn to fade into darkness.

* * *

When Finch awoke, it was to a bright white light. The ceiling was just as painfully white, and as Harold turned his head to the right he saw a white wall also. There was a door on this side.

He looked down and saw a needle half inserted in his arm, with a thin tube connected to a bag with a transparent liquid on his right. A perfusion. He was in a hospital then.

When Finch looked to his left, his heart rate suddenly increased and he sat up. John was there, lying in another bed next to him. He had a perfusion too, but also bandages on both his arms and chest and most importantly the monitor showed John's heartbeat. He was alive!

Harold threw the covers off him, sending pain through his whole body. His monitor was beeping furiously as a nurse came into the room looking worried. She was young, around her thirties, but seemed professional enough when she gently but firmly pushed Harold down on the bed.

"No, please, I have to-" Finch started, trying to make her understand how important it was for him to check up on John.

"He's fine, don't worry," the nurse gave him a smile. "He just needs some rest, and when he wakes up, you'll be able to talk to him."

Finch abandoned the fight and laid back on his bed, though his head was turned to keep his eyes on Reese. He was so relieved they were both alive. He had almost lost his best friend, and the memories of this day would be some of the worst amongst Finch's memories.

The nurse checked on the perfusion, and left when she was sure Finch wouldn't move again. Harold fell asleep moments later.

* * *

The first thing John felt was a dull pain in his head. It was like a constant ache, nothing like the pain he felt then in his chest; that one hurt a lot more. Reese opened his eyes slowly, blinded by the white light, as he tried to recall what had happened. They had received a Number, Kate Jones, blackmail, parking lot, his arm had been shot, two men escaping, Harold, explosion, Harold injured, stairs, the two men again, a bullet to his chest, Harold firing a gun, and Harold by his side. It had been a close call for him. How had Finch even been able to move him to... a hospital?

Reese looked around; screen, medicine, window, and Harold. John would have jumped right out of the bed to go to his friend's side if he wasn't hurting everywhere. The pain in his chest immobilised him on the bed, so he could only watch. Harold was sleeping, a bandage around his head, right shoulder, and his ankle was in plaster. Finch had his head turned towards John, the most that his fused spine allowed anyway, and John could only smile. He seemed fine.

They were both alive.

It took Finch a few minutes to come back to consciousness, and Reese smiled brighter as the older man opened his eyes. "Hello, Harold."

Harold could only give a smile of his own when his eyes focused on John's. It seemed almost surreal to be safe, and together. The earlier memories were like a dream in Finch's mind, a nightmare. "Hello, John."

There was a silence, then Reese spoke. "So I'm alive then."

"Indeed, and I assure you, Mr. Reese," Harold fixed him with a cold stare. "That if you ever think of leaving me again, I will fire you."

The statement was contradictory, but John knew how to read between the lines. "Won't happen again, boss." _I will never leave you_. "How are you feeling?"

Finch turned his head to face the ceiling and touched his head. "I have a bit of a headache, but the painkillers make it bearable."

John watched intently as Harold's hand fell back on the bed. His own hand ached to make contact, but he couldn't move. "What you did back there," Reese started, never once moving his eyes from Finch. "It was impressive."

"Mere self defence, and the adrenaline helped quite a lot." Finch had killed someone. It wasn't a Number he hadn't been able to save this time, it had been a deliberate act of murder. Finch gave a shudder as he continued. "I am not proud of my actions, Mr. Reese." There was a pause as Harold turned his upper body once again to face John. "But I thought at the time, that I had nothing else to lose."

John's features softened as the words dawned on was still a lot left unsaid between them, but Reese had gotten another chance, another opportunity to tell Harold everything. Ignoring the pain caused by his movement, John extended his right hand towards Harold. His heartbeat accelerated a bit -visible on the monitor screen- but he calmed it down with slow breathes, thankful of this particular training by the CIA.

Finch mirrored the movement, but the distance between their two beds only permitted the tip of their fingers to brush. But it was enough; the simple touch brought the comfort each men needed.

"I'm glad to be alive," John said softly. _Thank you_.

* * *

The bullet at transpierced John's left lung, and he had been lucky it hadn't touched the artery. The nurses said he'd need to stay a couple of month minimum, at the hostpital to recover. The bullet on his right arm had also been removed, but the damages were only muscular, so it'd take less time to recover. The burns on his left arm and hand, and the scratches on his knees would require a less complicated treatement.

As for Harold, his dislocated shoulder would require four weeks of treatment and physical exercises, and a few months for his ankle. His head trauma wasn't too serious and wouldn't be a problem for too long.

Finch had explained to Reese how he had called Detective Carter to get help, and when the Detective came to visit them at the hospital, she explained how she had gotten them at the hospital, and dealt with the dead man. The man in question was a wanted criminal, and Carter had left the FBI take care of him, find the source and arrest the boss. She also had managed to cover both Reese and Finch in the whole Kate Jones mess; the aliases Harold Quail and John Smith had been had the wrong place, at the wrong time. Money would buy everyone else's silence.

The Numbers kept coming of course, and Finch had to communicate each one of them to the Detectives Carter and Fusco with a bit of research on his laptop for the books.

As soon as Finch was able to move out of his bed, but still had to mind his ankle, he would spend the day by John's side, on the chair next to the bed. They would talk or watch TV -although Finch would give anything for a good book instead- until Reese felt restless. The nurses had less and less power over John, and even Harold wasn't able to convince him to stay in bed one day.

"Come on, Finch, I can't just stay here and not do anything." It sounded like a whine, but Reese didn't care. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, Finch by his side.

"Mr. Reese, I doubt this is a good idea."

"Ten minutes outside, that's all," John said, his eyes pleading.

Finch knew he had lost the debate, and simply sighed in defeat. Reese understood the sigh for what it was and stood up, quickly walking to the door and turned to Finch before opening it. "You coming?"

"Yes, yes," Finch couldn't help but smile at his friend's antics. It wasn't everyday that they could be so free.

When they were finally outside, John inhaled and exhaled loudly. "Ah, fresh air."

The sun hit their faces with warm rays, and a soft breeze rumaged through their hair as they walked, side by side. They kept a comfortable silence between them, until Reese thought it was time for a rest, so they sat on a bench. They were sitting close, their shoulders touching in a comforting reminder that they were safe and together. John was the first one to speak.

"Thank you, Harold." Not spending such time with Harold would have been John's only regret, if he had left, that day in the back street. Now he felt immensely grateful to his friend to grant him so much time. He felt content, happy.

Finch turned his neck and shoulders to face Reese, who was still looking straight ahead. "There is no need to thank me. There was nothing else I could have done, John."

Reese smiled and finally turned to the older man. Yes there was. He could have easily talked his way out, with a computer Finch was a magician. And then he could have gone on without John, and kept saving Numbers. But Finch had fought for him instead.

John reached for Harold's hand, which the bespectacled man gave without hesitation. Reese lightly squeezed the smaller hand in his own and smiled. The smile was returned immediately, and both men turned away at the same time. They stayed, bathing into the warmth given by the sun for a long while, never letting go of each other.

And John thought with a smile that the first thing he'd ask Finch when they'd be back at the Library, would be Harold's favourite colour.

* * *

**So I started this one when I was in a very depressive state, and I almost killed both John and Harold instead of Kate. But in the end I'm quite happy to have let them both live. I may write a sequel, where they get closer, you know. But I'm working on my Doctor Who fic first.**

**Kate Jones is a random name.**

**CBS owns Person of Interest.**


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